


check in

by side_stickie_note (lost_stickie_note)



Series: snapshots [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Smoking, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/side_stickie_note
Summary: check in(phrasal verb of check)1. What they do when they arrive at the hotel2. What Seungcheol wants to believe he's doing with Jihoon
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: snapshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913488
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: November 2020 Birthday Challenge





	check in

**Author's Note:**

> This was me, impulsively joining, and I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I'm about to do it anyway moment. Haha. I really have no clue where I was going with this, just that I wanted _pain_. So hopefully I achieved that. :))

“You shouldn’t have that crap, it’s bad for you.”

Seungcheol trails after Jihoon out to the balcony like a shadow, shivering at the nippy air, having already showered, wearing nothing but boxers and a thin t-shirt. “Jihoon, it’s _late_.” There’s a whine in his voice that he hates. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Jihoon stands firm anyways, ignoring his plea.

And Seungcheol watches as Jihoon taps one out, stupidly elegant looking between his fingers as he gets the lighter going on the second try, a deep drag before Jihoon blows out. There’s a silence before Jihoon sighs. “A lot of things are bad for you, ‘Cheol. Doesn’t mean we don’t do them anyways.”

It’s profound and probably means something. But all Seungcheol is thinking is that he really doesn’t want to be standing out in the cold at three in the morning watching Jihoon inhale cancer and god-knows-what else into his lungs.

“You don’t have to stay.”

He stays.

Jihoon still hasn’t changed yet after getting back to the hotel, black skinny jeans hugging his legs, t-shirt now untucked at the waist, black denim jacket thrown over it. At least one of them is warm, Seungcheol thinks bitterly. He can barely make out the other boy’s face in the dark, just the tip of the cigarette, a burning ember orange, sizzling, the remnants of some glittery makeup swiped over Jihoon’s skin at the cheeks.

Seungcheol tries to tell himself that he’s just _concerned_ , the last two stops on their concert tour really seeming to take it out of Jihoon. The other boy seems strung out, stressed. And so Seungcheol had maneuvered himself into sharing rooms with Jihoon, pretending that it isn’t out of self-interest, that he’s just trying to take some of the burden off.

(If he really wanted to take the burden off, he would make sure everyone else was in line and taken care of. Jihoon doesn’t need or want a babysitter, least of all Seungcheol.)

Jihoon is silent, not unexpected, and there’s nothing for Seungcheol to do but wait, crossing his arms to stay warm, shoulders hunched. In any other case, maybe he would have appreciated the quiet, night sky dark and oozing, an almost viscous black, stars dotting the expanse.

Their room is on the corner of the building, out of sight of the Eiffel Tower, but the view itself is pretty nevertheless, filled with Parisian architecture, a charm that can’t be found in Seoul. It makes it bearable, to distract from the fact that they travel the world and only ever see the inside of hotel rooms.

Seungcheol questions if it’s the tour that has Jihoon taking smoking breaks again, sneaking off in between sets to back alleys, or whether it’s something else giving him dark circles underneath his eyes, the deepened hollows in his collarbones that Seungcheol can taste when he plants kisses along the edges of Jihoon’s body.

But Jihoon is unreadable, and he doesn’t offer so Seungcheol doesn’t ask.

“Want a puff?”

Seungcheol shakes his head ‘no’ though he badly wants to say ‘yes’, not because he wants to validate Jihoon’s bad habit but to soothe his own. And Seungcheol wonders if there’ll come a time that he’ll be able to refuse Jihoon without any regrets.

Jihoon takes another drag and has the decency to look away before letting it out and turns back to him with hooded eyes, the dim moonlight casting half his face in shadow, just a bright shiny strip cutting under his right eye, making him look gaunt.

_Want a kiss?_

It’s embarrassing how eager he is to agree, given that the offer is half-hearted at best, an afterthought at worst, but it still feels good to press his lips up against Jihoon’s, so hard it can bruise, with a roaming desperation. Jihoon tastes like cigarettes, acrid in his mouth, and Seungcheol concentrates on trying to stick his tongue further down Jihoon’s throat as if that will give him the solution.

And Seungcheol’s still shivering, but this time not from the cold, as Jihoon slots his thigh in between his legs, the thin fabric of his boxers doing nothing to save him from rubbing up hard against Jihoon, grinding down until the delicious heat spreads through him, warm and wanting.

They detach with an audible sloppiness, Jihoon lets out a low swear, _fuck_ , and Seungcheol's fingers are at Jihoon's belt in an instant, nimbly undoing the other boy at the seams.

He shouldn't be surprised that he ends up blowing Jihoon, but he still is because he doesn't mean to. Seungcheol never really means to. It just happens, like a bad habit he can't seem to shake.

At least Jihoon is nice enough to return the favor, fisting his cock, only a few tugs needed to make him see stars, finishing all over the palm of Jihoon’s hand, and Jihoon wipes it clean with the complimentary tissues by the bed before finishing his cigarette. 

After they're done, Seungcheol asks Jihoon whether he's hungry, and when the answer is yes, Seungcheol orders room service for the two of them, nearly half the menu. By the time their food comes, it’s late. And Jihoon doesn’t end up eating anything.

In the morning, Seungcheol can see the small bruise beginning to form just underneath his left kneecap, a crescent moon turned sideways over his skin, like a tiny bowl or the slow curve of a wink. It makes him remember last night, Jihoon’s side profile, sharp and striking as he smokes, the feel of Jihoon’s tongue in his mouth, hot and heavy, Jihoon’s hands tangled and tugging at his hair as Seungcheol swallows as much of him as possible, all under the watchful gaze of the City of Lights. If he didn’t know better, it could almost be considered romantic.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess, I'm so sorry, lol.
> 
> Twitter: [@sidestickienote](https://twitter.com/sidestickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [@sidestickienote](https://curiouscat.qa/sidestickienote)


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